Regret
by Soggy Phoenix
Summary: Optimus Prime has returned, and Rodimus goes through a series of emotion, all while trying to stay away. The leader is averse to that, and seeks to help his successor. Semi-sequel to Chosen One. Rated T for attempted suicide. Ye have been warned.


**Regret**

**Optimus Prime has returned, and Rodimus goes through a series of emotion, all while trying to stay away. The leader is averse to that, and seeks to help his successor. Semi-sequel to Chosen One. Rated T for attempted suicide. Ye have been warned.**

"Rodimus..." there was no Prime attached to that, and Optimus reflected on his successor's stiff posture. He could not deny that the youngling had every right to be furious, but remaining furious for a vorn was pushing the limit. The Matrix was gone, and Optimus had made every overture to become friends with the mech once more, but Rodimus wasn't going to hear it. Why, Prime didn't know; perhaps it was because he had been gone for this long. Perhaps it was just because he was Rodimus, and he held grudges for longer than the average mech.

Whatever it was, Optimus was getting a bit tired of the sullen attitude, and placed a hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "Rodimus. Answer me..." it was a plea, a call for his friend to understand, and Optimus inwardly winced when Rodimus turned around.

His friend was broken, in some way. Something had happened in the short time that he had been gone, and he looked away, unable to look at Rodimus any longer. "I'm sorry, Rodimus. I am..."

"Sorry?" Rodimus looked at the mech, his blue optics bright with anger and betrayal. Optimus held them steadily now, knowing that this wasn't the first mech he had let down. It nearly shut down his spark to see Rodimus so betrayed, and know that he was the cause for it. "_Sorry?_ You're _sorry?_ Fraggit Optimus, sorry just won't cut it!"

"I know that, Rodimus--" Optimus started, but he was cut off rather quickly. Rodimus' hand was held up in a placating manner, his optics dim with some emotion that Optimus could not place. The red soldier seemed defeated and beaten down, and it was becoming more and more noticeable with each passing astrosecond that he stood before Rodimus. Guilt filled his spark, but he continued to look at his friend. It was all he could give him, a chance to yell.

"You left!" Rodimus started with an accusation, an accusation that Optimus could not deny. He had deactivated, yes, and he had even joined the Matrix. He had kept his consciousness intact, even if he had somewhat slid back to Orion. He wished he could call himself Orion now, and call Rodimus Hotrod...

"Rodimus--" he attempted, and Rodimus once again held up his hand to cut him off, on a roll. Optimus reminded himself not to interrupt the mech anymore and rocked back on his heels in a determination to stay still. Being yelled at for his mistakes costing everyone something was one thing that Optimus had become accustomed to in his long service.

"You left us here, without even trying to stay active, and when you come back, you destroy the Matrix!" he shouted, and Optimus let his head hang down. "You took it away right after I was finally getting used to it, and then you let everyone make you the leader again! I may have hated being Rodimus Prime, but I hate seeing everyone worship you and hate me even more! I hate knowing that my sacrifices for the Autobots mean nothing to them, and everything you do means, well, everything to them!"

The mech paused, most likely to gather his thoughts into some coherence, and Optimus just stood, letting Rodimus take his frustrations out. He felt ashamed of himself, and he longed to reach out to the mech and tell him just how much he knew what was going on, and how much he wished he could comfort the warrior. He longed to speak, but Rodimus would never listen, not when he was like this. It was more than Optimus expected to even be hearing this, and he listened attentively.

"You don't know how it was... Ultra Magnus was more of a commander than I was, and they all listened to him, but they called me not-Optimus, and I wasn't equipped to carry on your war..." the red mech slumped, his optics shuttering in some memory. "How was I supposed to carry on the war, Optimus? I thought the Matrix told me to carry us through peace, and that was what the knowledge oriented around, but then Galvatron came..."

"I don't know, old friend," Optimus spoke softly, regretfully, and watched as Rodimus' optics opened, and he was pierced with the youngling's gaze. There was a maturity that seemed out of place in such a youngling, and Optimus once again felt regret over the war and the Matrix's decision. "I'm... Sorry. I never thought it would happen to you..." he sighed, a peculiar habit he had picked up from the humans. "I never wanted anyone to be damaged because of this."

"Well, I am," Rodimus cut Optimus' apology short, angered once more. "I lost Arcee, I lost what little time of youth I had left, and I lost Hotrod. I lost _myself!_" he shouted, grief coloring his tone. "The Matrix destroyed him so that I could be born, and then you go and make it all worthless! You and all of the other Autobots made the sacrifice worthless because they all worship you! The ground you walk on is sacred to everyone, and the ground I walk on is to be reviled...

"Yet everyone was so concerned with me getting the Matrix back," he continued, bitter, and Optimus felt his spark sink, but there wasn't much he could do. "Not because they wanted Rodimus, but because they wanted the Matrix safe. Well, slag the Matrix! I'm _happy_ it's gone, because it means I never have to deal with it _ever_ again! Sure, it meant everything I did was for nothing, but you know what? I don't have to try and live up to someone who betrayed me!"

And there was the problem. Rodimus was young, and had taken this as a personal insult. Of course Optimus would never yell at him; that wasn't his style. His style was to try and find out a peaceful solution to every problem, and when that failed, he would take offensive action. There was no reason to attack the glaring mech, however. The Autobot commander was not like Galvatron, and would never abuse his troops.

"I understand..." he said as Rodimus grew too annoyed and stormed off. Grief flooded the aged mech as he stood, alone, bereft of one of his few chances to make amends.

--

"Rodimus..." it was a few orns later, and Optimus had honored the mech's apparent wish to be alone. However, he was ignored, and Rodimus dropped what he was doing to stalk out. Optimus stared for a moment before letting out a small sound of frustration, sinking into the vacated seat. He had never realized that Rodimus was so good at holding a grudge, but he was starting to grow a little frustrated. What was he supposed to do if the mech wouldn't even listen to him?

The wisdom that the Matrix had given him was no help. It would never be help again, not with the truce that Galvatron had agreed to. No doubt that Rodimus hated him for that as well. Optimus had ended the war sooner than Rodimus could ever have hoped. He wasn't sorry for that, and that would be the only thing he would never be sorry for. Peace was something that one could not apologize for bringing, and he wasn't about to start another war so that Rodimus could bring peace.

"Something on your mainframe?" Ultra Magnus asked, and Optimus turned his optics up to his co-creation and friend, distant. Dion had been everything Ultra Magnus wasn't, and he wondered why that was so. Perhaps his co-creation had just wanted to try and set a better example now that he was a prominent member of the Autobots, replacing Prowl as the second-in-command. "You seem a bit... Preoccupied. Distracted. And that's not your work nor is it your seat."

"I know, old friend," Optimus answered headily, and let his head sink down to the table once more. "It belongs to Rodimus, who I am trying to get through to... He refuses to listen, however, and it is harder and harder to even try and talk to him..." he looked up, debating on whether to pour his frustrations out on someone who didn't deserve that burden. No one deserved to hear what he had to, well, complain about, for lack of a better word. It wasn't the normal stress he had to deal with, it was the stress of leadership without help, something that he didn't know if he could do without the Matrix.

"I know. He barely talks at all these past few orns..." Ultra Magnus observed calmly, and dragged a chair to sit next to Optimus. "He talks adamantly to Arcee, Springer, and Grimlock, so don't feel too badly. In fact, he's still the little social creature that Hotrod was, he just refuses to admit that he has some of his old self's qualities. Just as you do, friend..."

"What do you mean?" Optimus' head snapped up, and his optics locked onto Ultra Magnus'. The other mech had a faint smirk on his faceplates, and Optimus allowed himself to relax, slumping a little. "What, am I that see-through?"

"No, I just know when you're worried," Ultra Magnus answered with a flippant wave of his hand. "How I know isn't as important as why you are worried and stressed. If you don't tell at least one person, nothing will lessen, and you will never feel normal again. You might as well tell me, at the very least. If you don't, I'll make you go and see Firstaid, alright?"

Optimus sighed once more, thanking the humans for coming up with this gesture. So many ways it could be used, and so many emotions that it conveyed. "I feel... Less," he started, shaking his head. "The Matrix is gone, and I know that it will never come back because it is inside of us all, even the Decepticons. It was not my wisdom to keep, but I feel as if I have failed it somehow. I no longer have the Matrix... I don't, and I don't know why I feel like I need it..."

Ultra Magnus was silent, and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. After a few breems he spoke again, though his voice was quiet and deferential. "I do not pretend do understand the Matrix's whims, but I think why you need it is because it made you Optimus Prime. It gave you something, even if it took Orion Pax in return. It, in a way, bonded to you..." he shrugged, laughing a little. "I don't really know how to explain my theory. I figure that it bonded to you, and you need it to feel normal. You dispersing the wisdom of Matrix was the ultimate sacrifice, but it..."

"What?" Optimus asked, looking at Ultra Magnus' optics. Surprise suddenly reflected in them, and the mech felt himself sinking down. "What did I do by dispersing it? It was the only way to save everyone from the hate plague, using the wisdom that the Matrix held..." he protested, and Ultra Magnus nodded, looking away.

"I know that, Optimus. The sacrifice, however, was the connection to Primus that the Matrix gave you. Neither you nor Rodimus has that anymore, that connection to fall back on," Ultra Magnus shrugged a little helplessly, standing. "On that note, I think I don't know what I'm talking about. The relationship a Prime has with Primus was not given to me, and I don't understand everything spiritual. Take my advice though: get some recharge and energon, and just wait it out..."

Optimus watched his co-creation leave, continuing the train of thought where Magnus had left off. Rodimus and he were without the Matrix, that never-ending source of wisdom that made them Primes, a rank that even Decepticons coveted. They could no longer travel into the wisdom to speak to Primus or to speak to the old Primes. They were no longer what they were, and it was hard to try and adjust. It wasn't easy for either of them, and it made Optimus wonder just how in tune with the Matrix Rodimus was. Optimus had had it longer than the younger mech...

"I can't..." he buried his head in his hands, shuddering. He wasn't allowed to have a breakdown, and he wasn't allowed to doubt himself, not with an entire planet to try and govern. The Senate had been almost completely destroyed, and the ones who ran it now had no control over themselves, let alone what he did. It was hard to deal with, but he had done worse. Cybertronians in this day and age were at least peaceful, for the most part.

Still, he wished he had some way to tell Rodimus that he knew how the mech felt, and that he just wanted to help...

--

It was becoming a pattern, a regular one that Optimus could not escape, and indeed stopped trying to. Govern, repair, and be ignored. It made up his life, and the warrior missed the swift paced action of fighting just a tiny bit. At least it would take his mind off of this, and he was made to be a war leader, not a peace leader. That was Rodimus' job, but the mech was reluctant to help. Hotrod had always been reluctant to help, but Rodimus was even worse.

"Can you..." Optimus' question was met with silence and a glare, and so he turned away from the leader and to Arcee, asking her instead. That also became a pattern in his life, trying to connect with Rodimus and then ending up not being able to. Optimus just didn't know what to do now. He knew that dispersing the Matrix would take a little out of both of them, but he had no idea that it would cause a rift that was this bad...

Watching the femme walk away and be intercepted by Springer, the leader of the Wreckers waving his hand loftily, Optimus twisted his facial platings into a wistful smile. He and Ariel had been like that once, young and completely in love, even after they were bonded. Her optics had been so bright so much, and never seemed to dim. Elita's had never been like that. War had changed them both, so very much...

Was that what was wrong with Rodimus? He had been involved in war at such a young age, yes, so it would make some sense. Optimus shook his had, unsure as of what to do. He was close with his troops, yes, but his deactivation had put a rift between him and Rodimus that was so hard to repair it was... Terrible.

With an extake, he placed his hands on the panel in front of him, letting them move automatically. Forms were signed and sent out to those who had requested them, decrees were written, and even a few public announcements went out to the news broadcast. It was an easy task, actually, and he felt himself relax into the familiar lull that paperwork always brought. Ah paperwork... It had been the bane of his existence, but now he enjoyed it immensely. It had been so long since he had done it, after all...

There seemed to be a millenia of paperwork, and Optimus began to have a suspicion that Rodimus neglected it in favor of doing more important things to him, like fighting or his special brand of negotiating. Optimus couldn't particularly blame him, but he could be annoyed at the fact that he had to pick up the slack of the former commander. Rodimus may have been unfairly thrust into the job, but that didn't mean he could ignore the duties that he had been given...

But Optimus had delegated his paperwork to Prowl when he had first been chosen, so he could understand what Rodimus was going through... Rodimus. He regretted giving the mech that name, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty. He had never thought that it would be the downfall of the youngling... Everything he had done in his activation must have felt so empty and useless...

If Ultra Magnus had been chosen, it would have worked out for everyone. No responsibility would have fallen onto Rodimus' shoulders, and someone who was prepared to take the Matrix would have received it. In the end, it didn't matter, Optimus supposed dully. Guilt was guilt, responsibility was responsibility, and fate chose those that were deemed worthy. He had been deemed worthy when Alpha Trion had given the Matrix to him, and then it had fallen onto Rodimus.

"Optimus sir?" Optimus turned to look at Springer, the chosen leader of the Wreckers for once without his legendary cool. "Have you seen Ho--Rodimus anywhere? Arcee and I've been looking for him, but the slagger isn't anywhere to be found." The triple-changer seemed to be confident that Rodimus was okay, but there was a hint of doubt about his vocal circuits that worried Optimus. "He just... Disappeared. We were supposed to go and see... The city."

Optimus knew that they meant the place where he had destroyed the Matrix, just to let Rodimus feel somewhat hole. Springer and Arcee were fantastic friends, and Rodimus was lucky to have them care for him enough to give up an evening of being alone together to let him recover. "I saw him a few joors ago, but he left when I came in," Optimus said, a spike of apprehension flowing through him. "I do not think that he could have gotten that far..."

As both stood, looking at each other, the sirens that usually sounded an emergency blared, harsh and discordant, seemingly mirroring the relationship between Optimus and the mech he knew was in trouble.

What had Rodimus done?

--

Optimus stayed by Rodimus' berth, his optics fixated on the recharging mech. The burnt and melted metal from where Rodimus had shot himself was finally fixed, and Optimus sighed a little in relief. Everyone had been worried when they had heard he had attempted to end his activation, most especially Springer and Arcee. The Autobot commander let his optics stray to the couple, recharging in the uncomfortable chairs as Rodimus remained offline. The wait was almost as bad as the news, even though Firstaid convinced them that Rodimus would pull through.

Looking back down at Rodimus, Optimus finally admitted that maybe destroying the Matrix, though right choice it was, wasn't his call anymore. But Rodimus had allowed himself to be infected with the hate plague, and had plainly let what he felt loose. Optimus couldn't blame the youngling for resenting him, and never would. Rodimus wasn't the leader that everyone wanted him to be, but at the very least he had tried. Optimus understood his grievances now, even if he didn't particularly agree.

"Op...Optimus?" Rodimus' weak voice brought Optimus' attention to him once more, and the youngling looked away. "I was sure that no one would see me in time, and that's why I took the chance. I didn't want anyone trying to save me..."

"Why not?" Optimus asked, leaning a little closer to his subordinate and looking at him anxiously. "Why do you want to deactivate so badly, Rodimus? Look at what you would be leaving behind," he gestured towards the recharging Springer and Arcee, turning Rodimus' helm to look. "Do you realize that this is a selfish maneuver?"

"So was deactivating because you were solving your own personal vendetta against Megatron! You lost sight of what was important within this war, Optimus, and that was preserving yourself!" Rodimus lashed out, though in his weakened state it was easier for Optimus to avoid. "You want to talk to me about selfishness? I just took the same way out that you did so long ago!"

"You misunderstand, Rodimus..." Optimus shook his head, not knowing how to explain. "I didn't just attack Megatron out of some personal hatred... He had to be stopped there, or it would have been impossible to stop him. I would not have any troops left, and indeed lost many of my best that day." It was hard for him to say all of this, especially in the face of the weakened youngling, but he knew he had to force it out, if only for Rodimus' sake. "I didn't want to deactivate. No one does, in the end, but I knew I would when Megatron had you in his grasp."

Judging by the sudden breaking of optic contact, Optimus knew that somehow Rodimus had forgotten about that, or was suddenly plagued with a guilt. "Rodimus. It wasn't your fault. You were rash back then, but it wasn't your fault. Please..."

"Then who's fault was it, Optimus, if it wasn't mine or yours? Are you going to blame Megatron?"

"No..." Optimus slumped, shaking his helm as he maintained the optic contact. "It was war, Rodimus. Mechs deactivate, and no one is to blame..." Rodimus shook his head and Optimus persisted, trying to impart the wisdom that the Matrix had given him. Rodimus had received different wisdom, wisdom about peace, so of course he didn't understand. "Rodimus, please understand that what happens in war is the fault of those who started it, and even then the fault spins away from them."

"How?" Finally Rodimus was asking him something without a trace of sarcasm or anger, and the look in his optics was desperate, not hateful. "How is not anyone's... Fault..."

Optimus let the knowledge sink in before accepting the trembling form of Hotrod, the young soldier leaking as though he had never leaked before, and that might just be the case, something Optimus regretted with all of his spark.

"It's no one's fault, Rodimus, not yours or mine. Please, let go of your regrets and be at peace, as we are meant to be in this day and age..."

--

"So, can we erect this thing already?" Rodimus called, perched uncomfortably on Springer's shoulders, teasing his friend as he ground his foot a little. "I don't know if Springer can handle my weight, he's looking as if he's struggling to hold me up!"

"How about I just drop you, Roddy?" Springer shot back, his hands tightening around the other's pedes to keep him steady. "Then maybe your dreams of deactivating will finally be achieved. Would you like that?"

"Oh haha," Rodimus shot back, his voice cheerful as he pushed the final piece of the power core into place. "Alright, let's get this thing up and running guys!" He ground his foot into Springer once more, and yelped when the triplechanger dropped him, smirking. "Is that any way to treat your ex-commander?"

"Yes, it is," Springer replied, wrestling with the downed mech playfully. Optimus smiled from his position, watching the power core slowly being dropped into the designated spot, and Cybertron hummed with the power of the electricity racing through it. He could almost sense his fallen comrades' approval, and he could almost visualize them with him. Prowl would be trying to look stern as Jazz slyly slunk closer to him, and Ironhide would be involved in exchanging bursts with Chromia.

Elita... She would be standing as erect as he was, displaying an image instead of just giving in and hugging him, as would he. They both had images to project, after all, and Optimus let out a weary intake.

"Optimus? Come on, let's get this celebration started!" Rodimus cried, tripping the commander cheekily and bringing him into the tussle, the three mechs rolling around on Cybertron's surface.

Nothing was perfect, Optimus knew, and even though Elita would never be by his side again, this was not the time for regrets, and was the time for forging new bonds.

"Rodimus! Stop trying to disconnect my rotors!"

Or keeping the peace. Optimus laughed at the struggle, disengaging himself and staring at the living Cybertron, grinning from behind his mask as he placed an arm around Ultra Magnus, staring at the picture of peace that so many had deactivated to achieve.


End file.
